


habits

by irabelas



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut, dom!lavellan, sub!solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irabelas/pseuds/irabelas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been sleeping together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> in light of most fic being riddled with dom!solas, i give you, slight dom!lavellan + sub!solas pwp.

They had been sleeping together.  
  
The fortnight they had been away from Skyhold, the nights had been spent in each other’s company - arms and legs wrapped around each other, chests rising and falling rhythmically every night and her hair tousled every morning, gleaming in the stray sunrays shining in through the flap of their tent.  
  
Everyone knew - or perhaps suspected - what they had together; and after their retirement to the shared tent together it was more or less confirmed. Out in the Emerald Graves Cassandra had only raised a single eyebrow that first evening. As morning came, she had not spoken of it to either of them, only smiled knowingly - if not suspiciously - at them both.  
  
The Seeker being a romantic did not seem entirely unbelievable anymore. Not that she would ever let it on, Solas suspected.  
  
Which, he had found, was entirely true for Tindra too.  
  
She blushed, simmered and smiled coyly whenever he called her vhenan, eyes gleaming after every  kiss. No matter how hardened and how quick arrows left her quiver, she was soft beneath it all. The soles of her feet were hard, her hands calloused, scars upon scars over freckles covering her body and her face marked with vallaslin. Inside, there was a warmth that Solas had not felt for a thousand years.  
  
Yet her kisses could also be hard and forceful, devouring and salty, promising to leave nothing behind once she was done. It surprised him - the tingling warmth pressing in his crotch every time she tugged at his lips with her teeth or successfully flanked an enemy in one shot.  
  
It was the exterior hardness that would be the fall of one God - this much Solas was certain of, the thrumming of the mark in her hand was so loud whenever he touched her, so strong and deafening, her muscles taunt, eyes sharp and glowing in the dark, a mind honed like a blade - and the inner softness that would be the fall of another God in another, completely different way.  
  
Her cheeks didn’t reddened at the brawniest jokes with Blackwall or Iron Bull - or even Sera - but her cheeks would reddened and stammers roll off her tongue whenever he kissed her slowly, deliberately. It was a sight to see, he recalled, especially in the mornings.  
  
Solas noticed that he was smiling - one that soon faded as he recalled that they hadn’t be sharing a bed (or well, bedroll) after returning to Skyhold. He shook his head. The text before him would not translate itself.  
  
”Emerald fungi?” The familiar voice that rang through the rotunda held a certain hint of distaste and Leliana’s crows croaked ominously, startled, at the sound, ”That smell is going to haunt me.”  
  
”To call it poignant would be an understatement,” Solas agreed, stealing a glance at Tindra from the corner of his eye, ”It reacted to the veilfire in the cave, remember?”  
  
”I tried forgetting about that place as soon as we left.” Tindra grimanced, her ears drooping low for a split second. ”I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Now I’ll be seeing that stuff in my dreams for weeks.”  
  
”Most likely.”  
  
”Dammit.” She propped herself up on his desk, legs dangling off the edge, evidently both ignoring the smell and the topic of conversation in favour of staring at him.  
  
”If it can be fadetouched as we’ve seen metals be, the possibilities of potionmaking are endless.” Solas scribbled a word, a thick drop of ink forming where he let the quill hang for too long. She was taking up his attention, too.  
  
"Why not let Dagna look at it if its alchemy _and_ magical?" Tindra offered, aimlessly rummaging through the scrolls, books and shard on his desk.  
  
He raised an eyebrow; it was late and even the candles had burned low, the daylight shining from the rookery a warm orange, making her hair look more ginger than the auburn it was. Solas set down the quill in his hand to the inkpot where it belonged. “You need only to ask if you want me for yourself.”  
  
“If you’re not preoccupied, then yes. Very much so.”  
  
”As they say, I am all ears.”  
  
”Very funny.”  
  
”I try.”  
  
Solas tried giving her an earnest look as she rolled her eyes. ”You have my full attention, _vhenan_.”  
  
”Was that ever in doubt?” She smirked, a hand reaching up and resting on his chest, turning him gently towards her.

He placed his hand over hers. “Of course not.” His fingers lingered on her wrist, drawing circles with his thumb, feeling her pulse and the thrum of magic inside. Her eyes met his; they were big and green, the smile on her face reaching them wholly.

Solas had never been greedy - in truth, he had been modest, and it had been one of his few virtues, even in a past life filled with glory. Yet, as her eyes flickered to his mouth - nervous and glancing, wanting - an uncertain peck was all it took before Solas responded. Heartily.  
  
Despite almost spending a fortnight next to her - breathing her in and taking in the heat that reverberated off her like a furnace - Solas had missed her for the sole night they had been apart. Tindra sighed into the kiss - and he was sure she felt the same, her lips parting, a familiar, welcoming gesture by now.  
  
He responded to the kiss eagerly, grasping at the hand pressed into his chest, pulling her closer with his free hand. She was sweet and smelled of soap and as he pulled back he noticed her eyelashes were still damp and clumpy, her hair still wet, a lingering taste of peaches on her lips.  
  
”You don’t have to stop, you know.”  
  
Solas chuckled against her lips, pressing his body between her thighs and kissing the grin off her face, not caring as a scroll fell to the floor lightly. Even the smell of the moss was forgotten, lips dancing against each other, hers soon reaching his jawline, nipping and tenderly pressing kisses along his pulse. Solas sighed, the hands now at her waist gripping ever so slightly.  
  
She had left a mark on his collarbone a few days before. It had been a red and purple spot before; now it was turning yellow and fading. Yet the memory of her pressing her teeth into him, almost breaking the skin, her running the tip of her tongue over it, whispering into his ear, made shivers run down his spine, fingers digging in at her sides, sliding lower, her smile against his lips telling him that she knew what he was thinking.  
  
The crows croaked from the rookery, curiously sounding like laughter.  
  
Solas pulled away. They were, after all, not alone in the humid air of a tent in the jungles of the Dales.  
  
And still - he was in awe. He stopped in his track, stopped thinking, stopped breathing - all he could think about was her, watching as her eyes fluttered open slowly, the way her tongue tasted her lips sending a surge of heat through his lower abdomen.  
  
”I want-” A deep huff of breath hit him, half-lidded eyes peering up at him. Tindra blushed, the colour crawling up the high neck of her overshirt and all the way to the tips of her ears, ”There’s no real way of asking without-”  
  
A line creased between her brows, her hands gripping against his upper arms, a welcoming warmth pressing against him, her sigh long and weary once she spoke again. ”I want to be with you.”  
  
Solas looked away. He was a liar - even a betrayer, perhaps - but he had not lied when he’d told her it’d been a long time. For that, there was a reasons for, too. He had not lied when he had told her he loved her. Not when he called her his heart, his light, not when he was on the verge of telling her everything at any given moment.  
  
He wanted to lose himself with her, to spend the night with her pressed against him, nothing between them, and to wake up in the morning to her hair tousled, the morning light illuminating her freckles, to fill her up to the edges and to spill over, over and over again.  
  
Yet, the grip on her waist faltered, just as the tension between them did.    
  
" _Vhenan_..."  
  
And she had asked him before, laying on the bedroll on their first night together, asking him to give himself to her and he had said he couldn’t. There had been sorrow then - ’is there something wrong? Am I wrong? Did I _do_ something wrong?’ - a rare insight, behind the thin flap of their shared tent, to the softness and insecurities she held.  
  
She had blamed _herself_ for his unwillingness to divulge himself further.  
  
Now, the same look was on her face. She was hurt, a flush reaching her ears - embarrassed.  
  
Was it worth telling her again that he could not, _should not_?  
  
” _Ma nuvenin_ ,” Tindra said, shoulders slumping, body pulled away from his - he’d taken too much time, been too late, too unresponsive, ”I can wait, you know. Forever, if it needs be.”  
  
Solas only nodded as she left, both hands slipping into his own one last time before leaving him - _cold_ , he thought - completely.  


	2. Chapter 2

A fortnight later, he knocked on her quarters before entering.  
  
”Inquisitor-”  
  
”Solas?”  
  
Solas stopped as he reached the top of the stairs, watching as Tindra’s ears fell slightly at the sight of him. ”I have another report for you.”  
  
”That you didn’t send with Leliana’s runner earlier today? I’m surprised.” The harsh winds of the mountains blew into her bedroom but her voice was the sharpest thing in the room. There was lingering frustration and pent up emotion - she’d said she’d wait forever, but she was a liar too, Solas knew. Maybe it was this similarity that made him enjoy her company so much.  
  
”Smugness and surprise are not so easily interchangeable but you seem manage it just fine, _vhenan_.”  
  
”That wasn’t a compliment, was it?”  
  
”You’re a subject of discussion more often than you’d believe,” Solas said, ”I will refrain from retelling what Varric might have mentioned.”  
  
”Is that supposed to make me feel better or worse?” Tindra snorted. If she was trying to hold back a smile she was failing miserably.  
  
”Perhaps a bit of both.” Solas offered.  
  
”I guess I’ll just get Cassandra then and have her interrogate Varric. Again. Do you think she’ll be free tomorrow?” Tindra asked but Solas knew better than to reply.  
  
With a shrug, she turned her attention back to the parchment laid out in front of her. Her writing was stiff and unceremonious, as it usually was after just learning how to write. Oftentimes, their dear Ambassador needed to re-write Tindra’s official letters with a softer hand - and he could see why; the scroll was ink-splotched and several holes dotted the landscape, ink bleeding into the desk as a consequence of her rough ways.  
  
Her hands were not gentle, not soft, lacking the tact one needed to sway Orlesian nobles. To him, though, they were perfect; nails trimmed short and practical, callouses on her fingers from weeks on the hunt, skin peeled off so frequently from arrows and bowstrings that there was a constant rash on her hands. When inquired, she had called it a scar; not a rash and _definitely_ not contagious.  
  
Solas strode towards her, hands clasped together behind his back - pointedly ignoring the twitch of her ears as she heard his footstep approaching - holding a certain report regarding emerald fungi.  
  
It was late, just about the same time as it had been since their last meeting alone. The stained glass didn’t allow the sun to shine through unadulterated, and instead it cast shapes and colours onto the luxurious rug and onto her skin like another set of freckles. The balcony was open, the hearth crackling vividly and loudly, flowers - an obvious courting gift, going by the card - in a vase far off to his right filling the room with a sweet, even lulling, scent.  
  
His fingers rapt against the scroll and her head titled up again.  
  
”Remind me, why are you still here?” Tindra asked, brow quirked.  
  
”I did not say, _da’len_.”  
  
”Excuse me, I can’t hear you over the sound of you avoiding me as of late.”  
  
Solas frowned at her words. In truth, he had been avoiding her. Distance, Solas had told himself, was something good. Distancing oneself from distractions - on both of their behalf's - was merely beneficial. Yet the thought of her had grown in the back his mind like an ill-born fruit. He was a child outside a sweetshop, peering in through the window but never entering, the rare eye contact granted by the shopkeeper merely accidental and fleeting.  
  
Which, in all honestly, summed up their shared experience of the last fourteen days.  
  
Yet this experience had made Solas - this man with all his guilts and worries and the knowledge that he would have to leave someday - think. Even if he deprived himself of her closeness his thoughts seemed to wander back to hers; a constant reminder that he wanted to hear her opinion, wanted the proximity of their bodies to be as small as possible.  
  
The thought of losing her - leaving her, loving her, losing her to whoever had sent those damned flower by the window - was agonising.  
  
”I gave your words some thought, _vhenan_.” Solas said, ”I want this. I,” he set down the report on her desk with his last step towards her, ”I want you.”  
  
He was pulled to her like moth to a flame, how could he not?  
  
Tindra stood, chair scraping against the wooden floors. The harsh line between her brow made him wonder if she still reciprocated his feelings. Yet his worry melted away when her he heard her voice, low and soft, fingers lingering on his wrist and tone filled with hesitation. ”Are you certain?”  
  
”Would I offer if I had not thought this through?”  
  
And just how moths often fall to the heat of the light, he was scared of what she might do to him.  
  
”You seemed pretty intent on not doing anything at all with me.” Tindra shrugged, an edge to her voice.

  
” _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ ,” Solas said, his voice low, a steady reminder of his proclamation, one that he was sure he had told her one too many times by now, ”If I have slighted you, feel free to ask me to leave.”

He had never been good at righting past wrongs. That did not mean he didn’t try.

  
”No, you haven’t, Solas.” Tindra said, her marked hand intertwining with his own. ”No one wants to be unhappy. Least of all me. I don’t want you to hurt yourself for me.” Her tone was despondent. ”We could continue on like we did in the tent-”  
  
”Our time together was enjoyable, vhenan, but I have a hard time imagining that to be enough.” His hand rested on her cheek, cupping it.  
  
”No, I guess not,” Tindra shook her head slowly, sighing into his palm, the furrow of her brows disappearing with each passing moment. ”I just want to be sure. There were considerations, were there not?”  
  
He would not lie. Not this time. ”Would you believe me if I told you no?”  
  
Tindra looked down at their hands, the contrast of skin, tenderly running her thumb over the creases in his fingers for a long moment, thinking, before sighing and saying: ”We’ll burn that bridge once we get to it, then?”  
  
A hint of hesitation filled her voice. But she didn’t push him away, didn’t pull away from his hands when they rested on her waist. Slowly, she smiled up at him. ”Well, as long as you don’t intend on getting in the way of my three meals per day, I think I can live with that.”  
  
”I will surely think of a few ways.” Solas chuckled, fingers tipping her chin upwards and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. He traced the vallaslin on her cheekbone with his thumb, riveting in how she responded when he licked her lips, her lips parting with a soft sigh, their kiss deepening.  
  
She tasted like peaches and cinnamon, sweet and spicy and wholly intoxicating, something a man could get drunk on. If he could, he would, Solas decided, deepening the kiss with ferocity of a man who had not loved for millennia.  
  
Blunt fingernails scraped at his scalp, bodies pressed together so tightly there might as well been no cloth between them. Solas sighed against her; he would finally have her as he had wanted for months, since Haven and the first time her doe eyes peered up at him, curious and observant.

Her lips were soft but unrelenting, a kiss that spoke of more desire than her not-so-sublte flirting could ever convey.  
  
Hastily, their kiss broke off. Solas almost staggered backwards, but stilled when harsh, calloused hands dug into the material of his shirt.  
  
”I believe I can offer quite a few ideas, actually.”  Tindra smirked, eyes sultry behind heavy lashes.  
  
The wind knocked out of him as she pushed him against the cold hard surface of the Serault window of her bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Some say that fine wine - the one’s from Antiva that are not wholly sweet and not wholly dry - are to be enjoyed only at the finest gatherings and that when enjoyed, it should be coupled with cheese and Orlesian cakes. Most of all, one should take their time with the wine, lest they don’t savour it.  
  
Time, it seemed, was something they did not have.  
  
Tindra’s kisses were relentless and harsh, tongue and teeth clashing, noses bumping together frequently, hands sliding up and over every expanse she could reach. She was nothing like a fine wine - no matter what pretty label she carried (the Herald of Andraste came to mind). She was more like the amber whiskey found in common taverns that the only the old weathered veterans drank cup fulls of.  
  
Despite the burn of her teeth on his lower lip, it felt good, satisfying, wholly endorsing. He could do no more than reciprocate readily.  
  
”It has been a long time since I felt anything like this,” Solas said in-between kisses, ”I would like to savour this.”  
  
”Take your time,” Tindra said against his throat, a hand clutching at his shirt, nails digging into the skin below it, her voice a bare whisper, ”I’m not complaining.”  
  
”Your work will be idle for some time, _vhenan_ ,” Solas warned.  
  
” _Especially_ if my work is idle for some time,” She mumbled back at him, pulling his shirt and amulet off him, nails dancing along his ribs ever so softly while she nibbled at his earlobe.  
  
He gave a light laugh, shivering only slightly as the cool air of the mountains swept in, her tongue on his collarbone. ”I take it your advisors are keeping you busy?”  
  
She shot him a very serious look, stopping for a moment. ”The work has increased twice-fold over the last week. Today was the first time Leliana smiled at me in days,” Tindra gave a whine, throwing an anxious look at the scrolls spread over her desk, ”Josephine is _hounding_ me, Solas.”  
  
”Does the Orlesian court bother you so?” He whispered by her ear, riveting in how shuddered and twitched against him.  
  
”Would you like to take over my duties? I’m sure your rustic apostate charm will win the Empire over.”  
  
”My penmanship would certainly be an improvement from yours.”  
  
”Shut up.”  
  
Solas fought off an amused smile, both hands cupping her face, fingers buried in her hair, pulling her closer and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, her forehead and lastly her lips. ”Since you are neglecting your duties, I would be happy to provide as a distraction.”  
  
”You’d be more of a distraction if you stopped talking.” Tindra said and her lips were hot on his again.  
  
He could do little but be taken up by her want, her fingers mapping every inch of him she could reach, hand pressed against his abdomen flatly, pressing him into the cold glass harder.  
  
Solas shivered and let out a muffled moan when her tongue prodded at the roof of his mouth, hands now grasping at his shoulders and her entire body flush against his. Her heat stole back any discomfort the hard surface against his back might’ve caused and he found himself clinging to her harder, pulling her closer, each inhale deeper and more addled with her musk.  
  
It was an effect of push and pull, of given and take; for every breathy moan that left him, Tindra gave a smile, and when his own hands slid over her chest and hips, a leg settling between her thighs, she gasped for the first time, moaning and jerking her hips closer to his. A tent was already forming in his breeches, her fingers languidly skimming over his front, only to pull away when his hips jerked.  
  
Her hands raked the expanse of his chest, simmering against his hipbones and then dragging her nails across his back, red marks swelling as she went, punishing from trying to rut their hips together. Tindra tsk’ed in his ear, biting the lobe.  
  
”Patience is a virtue.” She hummed, shaking her head.  
  
”Is this for keeping you waiting?” Solas asked through clenched teeth, jaw about as stiff as the wolf’s jaw amulet he kept around his neck. Had it not laid discarded on the floor somewhere he would’ve fiddled with it, a nervous habit he had found himself with.  
  
”Oh, among other things.”  
  
He hummed questioningly against the crook of her neck, leaving a mark of his own that earned him a pinch in the backside.  
  
”You deserve to be taken down a notch, _Hahren_.” The title (a dalish title - he quirked a brow - and never something she’d called him before) lingered on her lips, tantalising and rich.  
  
” _Da’len_.” He reciprocated. Two could play at this game.  
  
Their kisses turned more fervent. Solas’ hands slipping under the material of her shirt, fiddling with the breast band until his fingers could slip below. A hitched moan rewarded him when he caught a nipple between two fingers, rolling the warm mounds slowly. He made a move to remove the shirt, but was met by a hand on his wrist, pulling him away.  
  
”You know I’m no good.” Her voice was husky by his ear, sending a sensation of searing hot, white fire to his cock.  
  
”I always suspected as much,” Solas admitted, swallowing hard when a finger traced the wet spot of precum on his breeches with great interest, ”The mark may have had more mischievous effects on you than I was able to foresee.” Her fingers gripped him through all the cloth, a small sigh escaping her. Solas chuckled at the sound, almost inaudible, but just loud enough for him to hear. ”Or perhaps a desire demon has taken you over.”  
  
”I am sure Cassandra would inform everyone very loudly from here to Val Royeaux if that was the case.” Tindra replied, going on her knees before him, all while giving him a look heavy with false suspicion. ”Though I’m not hearing you complaining, _mage_.”  
  
”If this was one of my dreams I would’ve had you on your hands and knees long ago.”  
  
The directness threw her off. Doe eyes peered up at him from the spot between his legs, wide and mouth (so wet, lips so plump) slightly opened.  
  
Finally, she smirked up at him, fingers sliding below the rim of his breeches and smallclothes bringing them down in one swift motion. ”What else?”  
  
” _Da’len_ , you would be on your back on the bed by now-” Solas whispered, drawing on the image he had pictured so many times before as he felt a smile spread over Tindra’s lips. She nuzzled his hipbone, a hand resting on the junction of his thigh and waist, the other making careful, measured ministrations at the base of his cock. She twirled the coarse hair there, trailing her tongue against the underside of his length, his cock twitching in anticipation, breathy moans leaving him loudly.  
  
”Begging for me,” Solas sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, trying to compose a somewhat coherent sentence as her hand sped up, ”I would have you whimpering for more as you came, _vhenan_.”  
  
She hummed approvingly, tonguing the slit of his cock, some precum already spilling.  
  
” _Fenedhis_ ,” Solas gasped as Tindra cupped his balls, staring up at him through hooded lashes, eyes twinkling, ” _Vhenan_ , please.”  
  
”Is there something you want, Solas?” She asked, her hand slowing down until it was just torturous, her mouth pulled away from him completely. ”Tell me.” Tindra added, sounding like a girl asking her best friend to confine her secrets to her. The infantilizing image disappeared as she pointedly kissed the head of his cock, letting her tongue run along the underside of it with a bare touch.  
  
He was blushing - a steady flush had settled on his ears since long before - but this was embarrassment; more than he’d thought was possible now that he was older, wiser. It was like being with his first woman again, clumsy hands and cotton tongue yet not being able to stop himself because it felt divine. Her tongue, even the breath of her, near his cock, the velvet touch of her lips on him driving him mad and literally up the wall, hips jerking at the mere thought of how it would feel with her tight heat around him.  
  
”I want you, vhenan.”  
  
”I can see that,” Tindra drawled. ”Tell me how to make you come, _Hahren_.”  
  
”You are having no trouble achieving that already, vhenan.”  
  
”Do. It.”  
  
Despite him giving the commands, she was the one fully in control, coaxing stuttered words from his lips while her eyes pinned him down.  
  
”Touch yourself,” Solas whispered, heat spreading throughout his body at his own words, ”Go slow. I want to hear you moan.”  
  
 _Moan my name_.  
  
” _Ma nuvenin_ ,” Tindra said as she leaned back on her heels, smiling wickedly at Solas, not a hint of shame as she stuck one hand down her own breeches and took the whole of him into her mouth. His hands flew to her hair, gripping the tight ginger bun. He’d come too soon if she wasn’t careful. Tindra seemed completely aware of that fact and only chuckled lowly, the vibrations reverberating through his entire being.  
  
He momentarily wondered if Varric would’ve given Tindra the nickname Chuckles had they met earlier but that thought left him quickly as her tongue stroked the underside of his cock, moans of her own leaving her, the hand down her front making her hips shudder and shake.  
  
She took him as far into her mouth as she could, slowly bringing her lips up, sucking and stroking with her tongue. Her technique spoke of experience, the way she held his hips down with blunted nails when he bucked too much and went too deep told him to be careful. The wet, sloppy sounds of her mouth and his timed, breathy moans sent surges of pleasure through him, more than his own hands even could’ve. It thrummed inside of him like magic, eyes rolling backwards into his head.  
  
No, she would have to stop soon, he would come if she kept going, her mouth, her face, come-  
  
His cock left her mouth with an audible pop and an even louder shuddering moan from himself.

” _Garas_.” Tindra said as she pulled away from him, standing up hastily. She left Solas bewildered for a moment, bare and feeling more vulnerable than he ever had in years, denied the orgasm he needed.  
  
She stopped by the bed turned around - giving him an appreciative glance, he noticed, and some of his insecurities melted away - and said: ”Undress me.”  
  
He was quick at her side, hands already tugging down her already opened breeches when a booted foot hit him in right in the chest.  
  
”Slowly.” Tindra purred.  
  
It took longer than Solas would like to admit to get her out of her clothes, her boots had too many buckles and his fingers were clumsy and he tells himself it’s because of the haze she has left him in, that the need in him has yet to be filled.  
  
She seemed surprised by it - how easily he’s at her whims, watching with a sly smile as she beckoned him over when she’s completely nude and he’s in awe of her, watching the freckles on her skin dot it like trees on a landscape, the scars looking like mountains or rivers depending on their depth and severity.  
  
Gingerly, Solas traced a scar that reached over the swell of her breast to her ribcage, watching her squirm and arch under his fingers. A soft gasp escaped her, and for a moment they were quiet, still, safe  - his fingers still on her, touching as he was blind but he wants to see her with all his senses. He dragged his tongue after the trail he’s left, tasting - _savouring_.  
  
Solas knows he has to leave.  
  
This - his heart clenched - whatever it might be, was wrong, selfish, _cruel_. He would leave to fulfil another promise, another mission once his was done here.  
  
”You’re staring.” Tindra said, her foot on his chest against, pushing him away playfully and roughly, leaving him standing on the side of the bed. Her naked form lay spread on an expensive Orlesian bed, beautiful and wholly _his_ , Solas thinks, watching as she still revels under his skimming touch.  
  
He will not leave. Not today, he thinks, silently promising to be there as she wakes up - and that he one day has to leave.  
  
”I have exceedingly good reason to.” Solas replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the hard sole of her foot, not surprised as Tindra wailed and almost kicked him in the head.  
  
He laughed lightly, fleetingly, watching as she blushed and his heart filled with warmth. My heart, he had called her, and that was true. His fingers traced the tendons of her legs, strong and muscled after years as a hunter and after months as the Inquisitor, his mouth following the trail with gentle kisses.  
  
”Is this good enough of a distraction, Inquisitor?” Solas said, hands wandering further up, cupping her breasts, coaxing her nipples into taunt peaks. Tindra shivered and sighed, the words and kisses breathed languidly on her inner thighs, leaving a road of hot fire across sensitive skin.  
  
”Josephine hasn’t come in running yet, so, yes,” Tindra ran a thumb across his ears, scooting closer to the edge of the bed when he bid her in an ancient whisper. ”Though it wouldn’t be much of a distraction if you stopped should that happen.”  
  
”That’s,” Solas licked his lips, pressing a kiss to her collarbone and tracing her ribs with his fingers, lowering himself between her legs, ”A likely possibility, I take it?”  
  
”Did you lock the door?”  
  
”No.”  
  
”Then very much so.” Tindra smiled, head thrown back into the soft silks of the bed again.  
  
Solas didn’t move. His steady breathing ghosted against her skin, as if contemplating something.  
  
Tindra raised her head, peering down at him between her spread legs. ”You know, stalling only decreases the time we actually have to do this, so-”  
  
Precisely, measured and slowly, Solas pressed his lips to her sex, drawing his tongue out, tasting the whole of wet folds, the hitched moan leaving her different from all other’s, toes curling on either side of his head.  
  
”Asshole!” Tindra whimpered, head thrown back, fists clawing at the expensive silk sheets. He only gave a light chuckle in response.  
  
Tindra moaned, the softness Solas held so dear eased out of her as his tongue made quick work of her - a hand pressing down on her lower abdomen, tongue flicking, tasting, pressing against her quim.  
  
He took her clit between his teeth lightly, her body overstimulated and crying to be filled, _please, fill me, Solas_ , until he finally slipped one, two, fingers inside of her, curling them upwards until she came hard and fast, something between a half startled cry and moan leaving her, nails digging into whatever she could grab.  
  
With a pleased smile, Solas leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her lips in aftershock, only mildly surprised when she responded with the ferocity of a Hinterland’s bear and flipped them over.  
  
Tindra muttered a curse on his lips, whilst Solas only smiled, pulling her head down for another kiss. Her hips jerked against his, wilfully making his cock twitch.  
  
It had been a long time since he had felt anything like this; this surge of energy that honed his senses - that made him listen to every little moan, keenly concentrated as she straddled him, his voice a dry whisper of promises he knew he couldn’t keep as she grabbed his cock and guided him inside slowly - made him increasingly aware of the power she held over him.  
  
It had not been through pure lust he had visited Tindra’s rooms this night.  
  
It was something else entirely; he loved her, he realised, her teeth scraping against his pulse, their hips smacking together rhythmically, sighs and moans leaving them in this long-awaited union.  
  
” _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ ,” Solas whispered and it sounded like a prayer leaving his lips, _vhenan vhenan vhenan_ , each thrust, each roll of her hips granting her this title pulled from his mouth.  
  
” _Fenedhis, emma lath_.” Tindra whispered back, the hardness coming back into her face, sultry and lusty and there, solely for him as his hips jerked to meet hers, hands cupping her bouncing tits and grasping at her hips.  She pulled his hands off her with a curse, forced them to leave her and to be left clutching the sheets as her brows narrowed.  
  
Her own fingers travelled to between her legs as she leaned forward, the other punching into the bed beside his head. ”Look at me.” Green eyes heavy and dark, commanding her gaze to be held, pulling him in.  
  
”Please-” Solas moaned, eyes rolling back into his head as her rhythm stopped, a slow roll of her hips that buried him so deep inside her it made strangled cries leave him, the need to claw at her hips and let him come growing like ill-bred faith, ” _Vhenan_ , let me come.”  
  
”Solas,” Was all Tindra needed to say in order for his head to snap back to her demanding gaze again, ”Look at me.”  
  
And he did.  
  
Wholly and open-mouthed as she squeezed around him, picking up pace again, leaning forward and licking the shell of his ear whispering _garas, come, come for me, Solas_. She moaned loudly, spasming around him, the pace turning fervent and feeling like fire, as if life wouldn’t sustain them should they stop moving.  
  
With one last jerk his seed spilled inside of her, her eyes still capturing his like a hare in a beartrap, suffocating and overwhelming, crushing.  
  
Despite all reasoning, Solas swore he felt the world tilt with each shock of release, a spinning effect that only stopped when Tindra slid off him, his end running down her thighs in wet, white pearls. She did not seem to mind, however, and sighed contently, legs swung over his being, a smile on her lips.  
  
Their heavy breathing filled the air, the room too warm even with the balcony doors open.  
  
”That was-”  
  
”Good? Amazing? Incredibly thought-provoking and educational?”  
  
”Informative, if nothing else.” Solas grunted, a weariness in his bones that could only come from sex filling him.  
  
Their shared laughter filled space around them.  
  
”I found it to be a very good distraction. Could use some repetition, though.”  
  
” _Ma nuvenin, vhenan_.”  
  
They went quiet after that - a stillness filling them, the smell of sex and sweat undoubtedly not leaving them until a bath was provided.  
  
”Solas,” Tindra started, a hand sliding into his own, earnest eyes staring up at him, hair tousled but this time not in the morning but in the evening, lips pink and swollen from their kissing, hair curling at her temples from perspiration. She glowed. ” _Ar lath ma._ ”  
  
 _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ , Solas smiled into her hair, arms wrapping around her in an embrace that was warm and welcoming as he pulled the covers over them.


End file.
